


Song

by anzallamar



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hytham is depressed and Eivor is aggressively into poking the fight out of him, also two idiots in love: pestering you is my love language 2 feat Amunet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29249418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anzallamar/pseuds/anzallamar
Summary: Eivor turned back on the doorstep. “Will I see you at the feast?”“Will you come here and drag me there if you don’t?”“Hah! You see, Hytham, we met so recently and yet you know me so well already. Valka was right, our fates are matched.”
Relationships: Eivor/Hytham (Assassin's Creed)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 54





	Song

T he medallion joined its two fellows in a neat little pile on the desk,  clinking. Three down, Hytham thought.  In what? Months? 

“Thank you, Eivor. Your work is of great value,” he said, for the first time letting some sincere respect pass through his words. “I do not know if I could have managed the same.” The admission felt brutal, but it was good to finally let it out. 

  
“Oh, of course not. But I’m sure you’d done fine, all things considered.”  Eivor smiled, leaning back on her stool. The incense burner led a lazy spiral through the air; it was one of the few luxuries Hytham afforded himself in his Ravensthorpe bureau. 

“I will need some time before I know where to send you again, I’m afraid.” Hytham said, smoothing out parchment. “I will let you know as soon I am sure of the target.” 

The finality in his tone suggested that the encounter was over, but Eivor did not budge. “What’s that?” she said, pointing behind him to the wall rug which bore, stitched, the mark of the Hidden Ones. 

“The insignia of our Brotherhood.” Hytham fiddled with a pen. It was terrifying when she started asking all her questions; he never knew what to expect. 

“And what does it mean?” 

“Pardon?” 

“The symbol. What is it?” 

“It’s - “ Hytham started. “It just- it means…It is like your clan insignia. It identifies a place where our Brotherhood lives.” 

“Yes, but we are called the Raven clan because Odin favours us, and so we wear his raven, that it might whisper wisdom in our ears and help us crush our enemies. What does yours do?” Eivor explained, smiling her disconcerting smile, and Hytham knew it was over. “That is, if you know. ” 

He felt the colour rise. “I cannot tell you. It is a secret for the initiated.” he said, reassured  that it would suffice . 

“What, like your arm blade and throwing yourself off a cliff? But you taught me that one yourself.” 

Damnation, she had a point. What had possessed him to teach her the Leap of Faith? But it would have been wrong to send her out in his place without at least trying to give her the skills any novice would gain before their first assignment. T hen again,  Eivor had a bodycount that probably far exceeded any of the novices he had trained with, let alone himself. 

“It doesn’t work like that, for us.” Hytham sighed. He knew a losing fight when he saw one. “Very well, I admit I don’t know … “

“Hah!” 

“… yet. I am only an acolyte. Please contain your glee, it is unseemly to gloat in front of a stranger.” 

“It’s alright, Hytham. I won’t tell Basim you didn’t do your homework, on my word.” Eivor smiled her little smile, the one that always made him it think it was rather at odds with the aforementioned bodycount. “Perhaps I’ll find out one day, and tell you myself.” 

“You mean to join us, I gather?” 

“Are you going to throw a fit telling me that it is _unseemly_ for a woman to stab strangers in the dark unless she studies the secret lore and wears your robes?” 

“Would it stop you? It never seems to work; does anything ever?” Hytham said, cutting her off before she had enough breath for a reply. “Of course, had you studied the secret lore, you would know our founder was, in fact, a woman.” He paused. “Amunet.” 

Eivor was watching him intently, as she always did when she had succedeed in pushing his buttons. “Amunet.” she repeated, savouring the name. “What is her story?”

“I will only tell you if you promise you will stop pestering me about you being a _drengr_.”

“It better be a really good story then. Good enough to make up for my loss of enjoyment.” 

“I have travelled through many countries and seen many peoples. Many strange customs. I do try never to offend, even when what I see baffles me. I wish you would comprehend how _formidable_ you seem to me.” 

“Hytham,” Eivor said, her voice bearing no trace of the mockery of a moment before. “I could not join Sigurd on his southern raid, I couldn’t. Someone had to stay behind to protect the clan, and I had to get Kjotve. I do envy my brother, though, and I envy you for having voyaged so far . I wish I could have travelled as you did. I hope one day I might do.” 

“They would banish you from all sensible countries. Anyway, it is no matter.” Hytham waved his hand, dismissing the notion and the weird tension that he had felt ever since he had uttered that word – _formidable_. 

“Amunet was a scholar in the ancient city of Alexandria, in a land called Egypt, many centuries ago. It is a place so far unlike Norway, you would never believe it. Mountains of sand move around, blown by the wind, and the landscape is full of huge stone monuments left behind by the ancients, like the pyramids – ah, Eivor, story first, questions later.” He nipped her in the bud, and watched her close her mouth. “Amunet had a husband, who was a protector of the people of Egypt. And together they had a son.”

Hytham looked at her.  This must be the first time he had seen her hold that tongue of hers for more than five minutes. 

“It is said they loved each other, and they loved their son. But then, the Order killed him.”

“Why? And is the Order so old, then?” Eivor burst out.   


“They have been meddling with people’s lives for a long time. Amunet and her husband tracked down their son’s killers, one by one, until all those that had drew breath on the day of their son’s death did no more.”

“But during their quest, they found that the murderers had only been one of the heads of a snake with many, many tendrils, which reached all the way through the land. And Amunet found she could not rest until they had all been crushed. So she cast away her name, and her life, and dedicated herself to work in the dark, to serve the light.”

“Amunet means hidden one in the old language of Egypt, which is why we who follow her take her name, and her ways. Amunet was a scholar, and a warrior – this is what we try to be, to fight the order whenever it tries to strangle the people, wherever that may be.” Hytham realized the incense had burned out, and Eivor was still quiet. “Well? Are you satisfied?” 

“Hytham, I will be honest with you.” Eivor said, looking up. “The story itself is great, it had everything I like best in a saga – murder, vengeance, romance - “

“In that order?”

“Yes. But your delivery is _terrible_. You have no concept of rhythm, it sounded like you were listing off things you need to buy this week, not mighty deeds of a beloved ancestor. And none of it even _rhymed_! You’d never make it as a skald. I guess we can salvage most of it, but I need more details before I can flesh out a decent saga. I take it Amunet’s husband did not join her fight? Or did he?” 

H ytham was baffled. “Does everything have to be a saga with you?” 

“How else are you going to immortalize her deeds? Are you going to write it down in one of your scrolls?” 

“I was thinking that, yes.” 

“Anyway, what is a pyramid? And I gather you are allowed to get married, then? I have two silver bracelets from the Miklagard horde on Randvi, that the Hidden Ones are all celibate like those Christian monks.” 

“I – you _what_?” Hytham sputtered. 

“Well?” 

“The Brotherhood discourages attachments in those who actively join the fight, as not to needlessly endanger innocents.” He said, but then lifted a finger to interrupt her before Eivor could speak. “But it is not _strictly_ forbidden.” 

“Hm. If it’s unclear, I guess we’ll have to call it off.” Eivor shrugged. “But then, this means you’re free to join us at the feast, yes? Or do the Hidden Ones frown on all recreational activities?” 

Hytham hid his face in his hands. Eivor was going to drive him insane.“I thank you for you hospitality, but-” 

“I’m serious. Randvi tells me you spend all your time here. No one has seen you outside, and I've hunted with you, you're not _that_ good at disappearing. ” 

“The Order won’t track itself, Eivor.” 

“I know, but still, sometimes when I’m on a mission I wonder what will happen if one of these shelves collapses on you with none the wiser. It would do you well to go outside sometimes, talk to people, have a drink.” 

“I do not wish to intrude upon your clan’s hospitality.” 

“Oh, screaming Hel - “ Eivor said. “Then it’s not your Creed, it’s _you_ who voluntarily submits to punishment. Are you still mad about that sack of festering rot I killed?”

“No-” 

“Does your wound hurt you?”

“It doe-”

“Then you need to come out of here and behave like a person, Hytham, not like someone who died in Norway and is just hanging on. Basim told us you were a warrior.”

“Do not mention my master.” Hytham whispered. He had not heard from Basim in weeks. He didn’t know what to think: was Basim dead? Injured? Or was his apprenticeship simply over? 

“I know what it feels like to be left behind, Hytham. Sigurd is my brother: he left me for _two years,_ and he’s gone again. You need to keep yourself occupied or you’ll rust like a blade left in the scabbard. You’ll lose your edge. Why do you think I keep coming here?” 

“To make me regret waking up in the morning, is that not so?” 

Eivor laughed. “To draw out the  _fight_ in you, you wet little chicklet, else you’ll wilt and die, and Sigurd will know it’s my fault.”  Eivor stood up. “I also know what it feels like to be consumed by a single purpose, Hytham. I am trying to find mine after killing Kjotve. You will too.” 

“My only purpose is to aid in the fight against the Order.” Hytham felt flattened; his back was starting to act up again. “I have nothing else. I _am_ nothing else.” 

She shrugged, and turned up to leave. “ Guess it’s true if you never go look for it.” Eivor turned back on the doorstep. “Will I see you at the feast?”

  
“Will you come here and drag me there if you don’t?” 

“Hah! You see, Hytham, we met so recently and yet you know me so well already. Valka was right, our fates are matched.” 

“Eivor…” Hytham grimaced. “Will you work on that saga?” 

“Count on it. And on ours too, or you’ll ruin it in one of those scrolls of yours.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I know the game time is narratively weird so it doesn't feel like that much time has passed, but I guess Hytham spent a lot of time feeling like shit in his little bureau with little to no word from Basim and no idea what to do next , and I also think Eivor trying to aggressively pull him out of his fugue is her way to apologize for inadvertently being complicit in ruining his life plans 
> 
> also I'm all here for Eivor prodding Hytham for info about all those places he visited 
> 
> I think the Levantine Bros are way more strict than later / different Brotherhoods, basing on what I remember from AC1, and also that Hytham has a lowkey crush on the historical Amunet lol (who doesn't though)


End file.
